


Sweet Words, Soft Hands

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, auto accident, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim wrecks and both a Gotham street kid and Batman find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Words, Soft Hands

The harsh crunching slide of gravel was only a dimly recognized moment in the long list of horribly sequenced events. It was only the sharp, digging pain of said gravel cutting through gloves and into flesh that rendered the sound-warning vaguely useful. Honestly, Tim could have done without the noise, it would have saved his ears the pain of ringing on top of his plethora of irritating injuries.

“Fuh… Frick,” he hissed, barely catching himself from cursing.

Shakily, he pulled himself to his feet. One knee buckled under him and he had to fling out a hand and grab his, now crooked, motorcycle handlebars to stop him from tasting pavement a second time.

“Dude, you totally wrecked,” a squeaky teenage voice cackled from somewhere to Tim’s left.

A eyebrow shot up behind the cowl. He silently relished in the fact that his more disdainful expressions were hidden behind his new mask. Not offering a reply, he straightened himself up and worked on getting his bike into proper order.

“You should have slowed down around the turn,” the preteen boy drawled, draping himself over the bent wheel of Tim’s bike.

Tim gently shooed him off. He kicked the stand down before he knelt down and set the wheel straight.

“My dad says that if you want to take a tight turn you have to slow down. But… Were you chasing someone? My dad says that superheroes practice to go super fast so they can chase criminals,” the tiny male babbled. “If so, you haven’t practiced very much, have you?”

Very deliberate, very slowly, Tim let out a long breath. He looked up at the overly-talkative mouth with a tiny male body. “It was a mere accident, please stop pointing it out.”

The boy faltered pulling back. He swallowed as he watched Tim stand to his full height again. With the cowl, cape, irritation and dark alley Red Robin looked less a hero and more of a villain.

“I was only trying to help,” he mumbled. He stumbled back quickly to avoid getting hit when Tim swung himself back onto his bike. “Sorry…”

Tim’s shoulders slumped and he sighed quietly. He turned on his seat to look back at the child. “Don’t be sorry. Just sucks when someone sees you bail out, right?”

The boy nodded quickly, wanting to be on the hero’s good side.

“If I give you something, will you promise not to tell people Red Robin ate dirt?” Tim asked, already fishing in his belt.

The boy nodded again, so fast this time his head was likely to rattle off his shoulders.

“Here,” Tim held out one of his small bird emblazoned discs. “If you push on the bird, it turns into a flashlight. Should help you out since you seem to like wandering around dark alleys,” he explained, gesturing around at their surrondings.

Hands shaking with awe instead of pain accepted the disc. “Wow! Thanks! My dad said that his bosses’ son got a thingy from Batman and I’ve always wanted something like that. Now I totally do! Thanks!”

Tim nodded, starting his bike. He breathed a sigh of relief when it started up normally. “You’re welcome. I’ll… Try to take those corners slower. Thanks for keeping this our secret…?”

“Oh, Jordan,” the boy supplied, smiling brightly.

“Thanks, Jordan,” he finished. He straightened in his seat and tore out of the alley again. This time he was very careful to take the corners slower.

——- 

“What the hell happened to your knee?” Dick demanded, gawking as Tim shed his leggings.

Tim shrugged.

“Timmy, come on, what happened?” Dick pressed, his worry mounting as he caught sight of shredded palms and a bruised elbow.

“Nothing, I just missed out on getting a criminal,” Tim replied, setting his uniform aside to get fixed.

“So you threw yourself into gravel in despair? I’m supposed to be the dramatic one, not you.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Tim. He tugged a loose shirt and sweatpants onto himself. He strode past Dick and to his computer. With patrol cut short he might as well get reports done instead. At least that was his plan until Dick placed himself between Tim and his computer screen.

“Dick… I have work to do,” Tim sighed, frowning at the older male who had yet to get out of his own Batman uniform.

Dick shook his head. “Nope. You need to go upstairs, clean up those injuries and go to bed.”

“Batman’s orders?”

“Batman’s orders,” Dick repeated. He dropped his hands on Tim’s shoulders and started to usher him toward the stairs. “I skipped out on my own patrol, something Damian will never let me hear the end of, to check on you.”

“But why?” Tim glowered slightly, trying to resist Dick’s pushes.

“Your bike alarm,” Dick answered simply.

“Bike alarm..?” Tim echoed, rather confused.

“Sure, it goes off whenever your bike takes damage. Even if it’s not that serious. Didn’t you ever wonder how Bruce always knew when you’d crashed on your R-Cycle?” Dick explained, successfully getting Tim all the way upstairs and into his bedroom.

“Innate Bat-sense?”

Dick snorted. “That too, but no.” He tugged at Tim’s shirt, silently requesting it be removed. “It has a small trigger that alerts my computer if something goes wrong.”

“Good to know…” Tim mumbled, taking a mental note to have to removed.

Dick sighed, knowing by next week his computer would never again tell him if Tim’s bike was in trouble. He pulled Tim to the bathroom. It was a tall tell sign that the younger male was tired and sore when he didn’t even put up a fight. That only seemed to add to Dick’s worry.

“You’re losing weight again,” Dick commented once the shirt had been removed and Tim had taken his seat on the bathroom counter.

“Probably.”

“That’s a problem, little bird,” Dick chided. He gathered up a washcloth and bandages. He set to work on cleaning off the wounds and covering them up. “You’re tiny enough as it is.”

“I thought you liked the fact I was small,” Tim pointed out.

“Small, yes. I think it’s super adorable how I can just scoop you up and cradle you in bed,” Dick agreed, pleased at the blush it earned him. “But not terribly bone thin and unhealthy. Eat more. I can start bringing some of Alfred’s food if you want.”

Tim nodded once.

That was the most Dick was going to get out of him. One day he’d push harder, get the teenager to agree or at least feel comfortable enough to agree.

The pair quieted, nothing more than silence and breathing space shared between them. It was comfortable in it’s own way, but nothing like it once was. More often than not both of the men wondered if it would ever go back. While one desperately wished it would the other declared himself too far gone to return.

“There, all done,” Dick announced, breaking the silence. He pulled himself off the floor and smiled up at Tim. “Going to tell me what happened yet?

Tim looked down at him, expression unreadable for a moment. "No, it’s a secret Jordan and I share.”

“Jordan..?” Dick blinked, staring at Tim as he hopped of the counter and headed to bed. “Who is Jordan? Should I be concerned about this?”

Tim glanced over his shoulder and his face shifted in a smirk that solely belonged to him. No one could look that villainous and yet succubus sweet at the same time.

“Timmy,” Dick whined, chasing after the other male and falling with him into the mattress.


End file.
